


What Do You Want?

by DunkMeToHell



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, FROM THE STUDIO THAT BROUGHT YOU PORN™️ IT'S CONVERSATIONS©️, Fluffy Ending, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Minor Angst, One Shot, Talking About Feewings™️, [ish], in the background and shit, it's like several paragraphs of internal turmoil topped off by several paragraphs of cute shit, my shit keeps getting progressively longer and it is a problem, sappy nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkMeToHell/pseuds/DunkMeToHell
Summary: In the ring, Cedric and Enzo know what their relationship is. Outside of it, not so much—and it's time they talked about it.





	What Do You Want?

 

If there was one thing that was certain, it was that _everything_ about him was detestable.

His fashion was disgusting. His ego was bigger than he was—not too hard; he really wasn't that much taller than most of the roster, but still. His mouth was filthy, and never closed for longer than a few seconds. And he couldn't fight for shit—he knew this especially well. He'd personally been in the ring with him enough times. Hell, the only way he had the belt on right now was because he'd cheated. That was what he was like: always underhanded, always ready to stab you between the shoulder blades at the earliest convenience, always ready to sneak in through the alternate route—

Speaking of alternate routes, that was exactly the fashion in which Enzo had entered Cedric's hotel room tonight. The window, specifically. The worst part was that this wasn't even the first time he had done precisely this. Both times, his method of doing so had been a mystery.

The first night had been the night that Enzo had lost the cruiserweight belt, and, having a bit of a breakdown, he needed to stumble in somewhere for comfort. Now, however, he had the belt back, and his slimy self-assurance was glued securely back in place. Tonight, Enzo had entered simply soggy, wet from his sweat as well as from the rain outside. Ostensibly, his reason for breaking and entering had been needing to use the shower. The reasoning was complete nonsense, and Cedric knew it—and yet, for some reason, he allowed it.

Using him to bum a free shower was just like Enzo. Yes, Cedric was certain. Everything about him was simply detestable.

 

So—

Cedric looked down one more time to the left side of his bed. Enzo was laying there, bare back pressed up against the side of his body.

So, why didn’t he _hate_ him?

 

Cedric was keeping careful track. Statistically, most of the time they saw each other, he was fairly certain that he did hate Enzo. Some weeks earlier, he'd had him outside the ring by his neck, screaming in his face about how fucking sickening he was. The heat stung his mind like needles in that moment, and Cedric truly felt that, had Noam kicked him just a second later, he would've torn open Enzo's throat. Few would argue that he didn't deserve as much. And yet— 

Enzo tried to shift his body, but found himself trapped by the covers, which were taut under Cedric's hip. Quickly, Cedric lifted his hips up and loosened the sheet, and Enzo moved unhindered. 

—And yet, when he saw Enzo in the parking garage that night, all he had to do was smirk at Cedric, honk his horn twice, and drive off, and just like that, all the fire of hate in Cedric's head cooled off. That heat was replaced by...something. Something different. And he couldn't make sense of it.

Cedric hated Enzo in the arena. Why couldn't he hate him in his bed?

It was embarrassing to admit, but this was not the first time that they’d done this—far from it. In fact, the night Enzo had broken into Cedric’s room to just cry on the floor had ended up exactly like this. And there’d been plenty of occasions since: a time in a bar bathroom stall; a time in the locker room after everyone else had left the arena—the locker room was actually pretty popular with them, Cedric realized. Even on nights where they didn’t ultimately completely give in to each other, they were always back there in some way. Enzo was a big fan of what he called “aftercare”, which ultimately translated into “Cedric kisses my body after I get the shit kicked out of me tonight like I inevitably will”. And yet, Cedric would always oblige him...

The real first time this had happened was months ago (it felt like an eternity), the last time it was okay to say that you even didn’t hate Enzo Amore. They had tagged together, along with Gran Metalik, and had won the match. The celebration that followed, which Enzo had insisted upon, was drenched in alcohol, and Cedric transformed. Metalik went his own way after they got to the hotel, but Enzo had stayed the night. Cedric didn’t remember much from that night, but he did remember that he didn’t welcome Enzo into his room as much as he yanked him in by the arm.

At the very least, he had been drunk. But now—Cedric breathed into his palm and smelled his breath to confirm—he was completely sober. In fact, the last few times, they’d both been more sober than not, and had simply grabbed each other, and guided each other into some secluded corner where they would be alone...

Actually—Cedric flushed as he realized—he couldn't even blame the look in Enzo's eyes this time. Tonight, Cedric had parted the shower curtain himself, and Enzo didn't even see him coming...

He rested his hand against his forehead. There could not be any conceivable explanation for what was happening to him. Not one that he was ready to accept.

Cedric leaned down a bit closer, looking over Enzo's body, as if an inspection were going to make anything clearer to him. He—Cedric blinked and squinted, and was stunned that he hadn't noticed this earlier—he was sleeping with the belt, clutched tightly to his chest like a security blanket.

Clinging to his only accomplishment in life—one that he had won by cheating, Cedric was careful to remind himself. Yes, got it. He could check off another box on his mental "how-you-feel-about-Enzo Amore" list (standard issue). And, by the way, he should have kicked his ass for having such _nerve_ , coming into his presence with that belt. Check again. Making good progress!

As he looked Enzo's sleeping body over, Cedric was faintly conscious of a small smile spreading across his face...he may have been clinging to his only accomplishment, but...

Enzo took a strange, sleepy breath in through his slightly-parted lips, and flipped from his side onto his back. Cedric could now see his face a bit more clearly in the lamplight. Now that all the bronzer had been shed, he found that Enzo's skin was paler, pinker, with little freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. His hair stuck up to the left in a puffy, feathery wave, opposing to where he'd just been lying on the pillow. For once, his brows were slacked, and his face was relaxed rather than contorting, as it would when he screamed on the microphone; his eyelids were shut, only intermittently flittering with a sort of closed-eye blink, and oh God, he was just so...

Cedric rubbed his temples to try and clear his head out, but it was no good, and the thought had already been finished:

He was just so goddamned pretty.

 

Cedric reached out to run a hand through Enzo's hair. It was cottony to the touch, like hair probably shouldn't be, puffed and frizzed from the shower as well as a few years of bleaching. As he did so, Cedric's brow slowly wrinkled with consternation—it still didn't add up.

"Pretty" wasn't enough. Cedric had had pretty before—in women, and in maybe a couple men (a couple more than maybe he would care to admit yet, but then again, when your whole avenue of work is play fighting with other men...). He’d learned by now that beauty was meaningless—a lesson he probably should have learned in the past, it was so obvious, but he’d at least been through it enough times that he now had the message. And every time Cedric went through it, he could simply shed them—whomever the hell he’d been dating this time, and all their beauty and prettiness. Nothing was left behind that a good shower and maybe a week of beating off couldn’t wash away.

Enzo was not washing off. In fact, Cedric was worried that he was starting to grow into some skin that he couldn't simply shed. No, it wasn't the fact that he could simply be attractive. Something else was in possession of him.

But what it was, Cedric couldn't—or wouldn't—quite place. The idea that he wasn't just horny was a bit more than he could bear. He'd already worn himself thin trying to will himself into falling in love with somebody, anybody, backstage, just to avoid that—he'd seen Nia backstage on RAW a few times, and thought her stature and attitude were attractive. Bayley was more than bubbly, and had lovely eyes. Hell, Cedric had considered what would happen if he leaned over and kissed Kalisto or Mustafa on the cheek right before a match. But nothing stuck...and none of them ended up in his bed after using the shower.

Murmuring in a dream language, Enzo reached up and faintly swatted Cedric's hand from his hair before turning back onto his side.

So, Cedric had been forced to accept it. He was attracted to Enzo. He lusted after him, to be certain—but it went further than that. There was that something, that intangible drawing him in. He was interested.

 

The problem to be solved was: interested in what?

 

A stray bang fell over Enzo's face. Without even thinking, Cedric reached out to push it away—but Enzo had it first, swiping it back into place with a flick of his fingertips.

His eyes now opened rather easily, trained directly onto Cedric. Cedric felt his heart pound a couple of times. In the dimness of the room, Enzo's large eyes stole and reflected every bit of the lamplight, looking almost dark blue.

Cedric scratched the back of his neck. "Have you...been awake?"

Enzo averted his eyes from Cedric's, sniffed, and nodded. Outside, fat raindrops slapped against the window, filling the room with a low roar—highly audible, as at the moment, Enzo seemed to be unusually mum. He twisted the edge of the blanket with one hand, the belt kept against his midsection with the other. When Cedric squinted, he noticed that Enzo's cheeks were tinged pink.

"You always sleep with that belt?" Cedric teased to break the tension. Enzo cracked a small smirk, shifting the belt so that the plate rested over his shoulder.

"Hell yeah. Gotta treat ya girl well, y'know?" He said, gently patting one of the nameplates fondly. Cedric chuckled a bit, but felt his cheeks grow warmer.

"Besides," Enzo's smirk deepened as he leaned back, one eye closed as he looked back to Cedric, "I don't really sleep with her more often than I do you, do I?"

Cedric's eyes widened a bit, and the warmth in his cheeks blossomed into a red-hot feeling all across his face. 

"Huh? What?"

Enzo averted his eyes again, and made an expression like he regretted saying that just now. The belt slid slightly from his shoulder, and Cedric now saw several long, thin scratches along his chest. Cedric reached out, almost automatically, and brushed his hand below one to draw attention to it—his touch made Enzo jump and drop his belt on the floor entirely. Cedric drew his hand away quickly as Enzo bent over to retrieve it from the floor.

"Where did those come from?" Cedric asked, concern edging slightly into his voice.

"Hm?" Enzo sat back up, and looked back down at his chest. "What the hell—oh, shit." He chuckled slightly. "The belt plates must've been scratchin' me all night. You're rough, ain'tcha, girl?"

Cedric took in a slow breath. He had better not be feeling jealous of a fucking title belt. He reached out again, gently running a thumb across one of the scratches, just below Enzo's collar bone. He didn't seem to be bleeding, which was good.

Enzo flushed, and hid his chest with one of his arms. "Ay, _ay!_ What're you doin'?" He exclaimed, sliding an inch away—to his surprise, Cedric leaned in and followed.

"You sure you're okay? You got a lot of those..."

"I-it's fine, man," Enzo stammered, leaning back slightly. Cedric again followed, his fingertips pressing against Enzo's chest, gently prodding and examining. Enzo felt his heart begin to throb.

"Come on," Cedric insisted, "just let me look?"

Enzo looked up at the ceiling—as if Cedric could be stopped. "Come on, man. Go back to sleep. Please."

"I wasn't sleeping," Cedric insisted. He hadn't been, true—but Enzo could tell he was tired. His lids were falling slow and heavy over his eyes. Right now, he was squinting just barely enough in the light for his eyes to qualify as being open. Enzo watched as his eyes—dark brown, reflecting little crescents of light at the edges—flitted back and forth over his chest. He felt so oddly tight inside, having this much attention paid to him, and shifted in discomfort. Cedric's eyes darted up to Enzo's face now to check on him.

"What, did that hurt?" He asked. In the low lamplight, only the edges of Cedric's body were outlined, and Enzo swore that he was glowing.

Enzo shook his head quickly, running a hand through his hair. 

"No, no, naw, man..." Enzo insisted, trying not to let Cedric hear his breath hitching. "It's just...I-I mean...how come you're worried? Just a few scratches."

Cedric slid back slowly. The question hit him as well, and he couldn't answer: why was he worried?

 

“I…” he started to look for words, trying to pick them out from the recesses of his brain. With Enzo giving him that little expectant, head-tilted look, it was hard to focus. “I’m not that worried, I just...uh..." Cedric sucked his lips in for a second. The shallow well of what he was thinking to say had suddenly dried up.

Enzo squinted at Cedric as he sat back up, resting the belt on his knees. Cedric looked to his own knees, avoiding Enzo's gaze as he pulled his hands away from his chest—leaving Enzo feeling oddly colder. The whole room was cold; the curtains were drawn open to the window, where the rain and wind were lashing the glass in long rivulets.

"Sorry," Cedric murmured. Enzo looked him over, and regarded him with a little nod. He couldn't think of anything else to do; he was used to Cedric looking at him with anything ranging from amusement to outright disturbance, even disgust in the ring. But "genuine concern" would have felt pretty unfamiliar from anyone—and from _him_ , it made even less sense.

The slow drumming of the raindrops against the windowpane were having a lulling effect on Cedric's brain, and he felt his lids drop a bit more. He slowly pressed his back into the mattress, and pulled the comforter almost over his head.

"You sleepin'?" Enzo asked. Cedric, nearly asleep, vaguely felt the weight beside him shift and twist over the sheets.

"Yeah...gotta...get out early..." Cedric mumbled, half-muffled by the comforter. He now heard the sharp whine of a zipper being pulled up, and stirred, pulling the sheets away from his eyes. Enzo was seated upright on the edge of the bed, adjusting the waist of his jeans around his midsection 

"Wh...what the hell're you up to?" Cedric asked, propping himself sideways on one elbow. In his tiredness, his voice was soft, apparently too soft—Enzo did not answer, and instead reached down to the floor where they had shed their clothes, untangled his jacket from Cedric's pants, and started threading it over his arms. "Enzo," Cedric said, voice raised slightly, but still gentle against the rain.

Enzo turned his head back over his shoulder as he did up the buttons. "Hm?"

"Where you goin'?" Cedric asked. He was squinting tiredly, and Enzo was becoming a blurry smear in the low light of the room.

Enzo shrugged slightly, slipping the belt around his waist and latching it behind him. 

"Can't sleep. Gonna go for a walk," he murmured, brushing some hair off of his shoulder. "That okay?"

Cedric's eyes narrowed with suspicion, and now he saw almost nothing. "In this weather?" He asked, as the rain outside continued to harass the windows, now harder than they had all night.

"Ain't my fuckin' mom..." Enzo grumbled. He now stood in the mirror, observing his appearance, as if he honestly had somewhere important to be at 2 AM on Tuesday night (or more accurately, Wednesday morning). Cedric blew air out through his teeth. Mother or not, he sure didn't care for the attitude.

"Look, quit being a bitch and at least take the umbrella with you?" Cedric asked, as he flopped over to his back. He groaned softly as the mattress ate up his body. His eyes drifted shut, and he felt himself begin to sink into sleep. Enzo turned around, hoping to meet Cedric's eyes, only to find them already closed. He hesitated.

"Don't wanna go with?" Enzo asked gently, despite knowing how stupid the question was. Cedric let out another little sound, and settled further into the sheets. Enzo's tone had been so soft and lulling, it took a moment before he could even respond.

"Mmh...? No, no..." Cedric's voice was faint, fading over the horizon. Enzo simply nodded, and swallowed the hard lump that had for some reason formed in his throat. It may have been more questions—though Enzo couldn't quite place what it was that he wanted to ask.

Instead, he turned back to the mirror to tie his hair up into a knot, and then capped it off with his hat, knocked just a bit sideways, as he preferred it. As he gripped the doorknob, Enzo suddenly paused and let his gaze fall back upon Cedric lying out on the bed. The slow, deep heaving of his chest under the comforter confirmed that he was asleep. Something in his peaceful face caused Enzo's heart to twist around, though he couldn't—or wouldn't—figure out the reason for it. Enzo lingered on him for a moment longer before he finally sighed and stepped out the door.

 

At any rate, he was relieved that Cedric had been asleep at that moment. If he'd been awake, he might have seen the sort of anxious, troubled look that came across Enzo's face when he looked at him—and, being Cedric, he would've politely asked Enzo what the hell that look was for.

 And that was a question Enzo didn't know how to answer.

 

* * *

 

The rain was crashing down on the windows when Cedric woke up a few hours later. What had earlier been a low thrum in the room had now turned into an almost deafening roar, and the air around him had gained a sharp chill. Cedric buried himself up to the shoulders with the sheets and blanket to ward it off for at least a moment.

Cedric pulled out his phone, blearily squinting into the bright light of the screen. 4:45 AM, and no new messages or calls. A deep frown now dug into his face. It hadn't been the rain that had woken him up—though the cacophony was so unbearable, it didn't help at the moment. Cedric managed to pry himself out of bed, stumble to the window and drag the curtains shut. As he did so, his foot hit something metal on the floor. Cedric quickly turned the phone light onto the object, and discovered it to be his umbrella, lying in the exact same spot where he'd left it when he had entered this evening. Cedric swore under his breath.

 

No, what had woken Cedric up was the fact that the other side of the bed had gotten too cold.

 

Cedric kneaded his sleep-filled eyes with his knuckles, debating with himself whether or not he really wanted to do this. He was exhausted, it was well-past 4 AM, and even with an umbrella, he would surely get waterlogged. On the other hand, Enzo had been gone for a long while, far longer than necessary, and without an umbrella he would get a rather shitty cold. Probably would lose his voice again. But on yet _another_ hand, it would behoove Enzo to suffer for his mistakes.

Oh, hell.

Cedric swung over the foot of the bed and reached for his clothes, lying cold in a knot on the floor. It took a bit of doing, but he eventually managed to wrangle his shirt right-side-out, and zipped it up over his shoulders. His jeans were a bit trickier, as the zipper nearly caught him a couple times, but soon Cedric was dressed—presentably enough, for a man who was supposed to be asleep right now. He slung the umbrella over his wrist, took a breath, and threw the door open. 

Of _course_ he had to go get the stupid bastard.

 

* * *

 

Enzo didn't understand many things.

Primarily, at this moment, he didn't understand where the hell he was, or how he got there. 

The first question was answered easily enough. It was printed in black, near-unintelligible block letter script near the top of a drink menu that he was, surprisingly, only half-considering ordering off of. Apparently, he was seated at "Derek's 24 Hour Bar n' Grill"—undoubtedly a very classy establishment, judging by the fact that the menu was printed on a scrap of printer paper. The ink was running down the paper in dark streams, where the rain water dripped from Enzo's hair onto the menu.

Enzo wrung out one sleeve of his shirt, then the other, each one letting a torrent onto the floor with an embarrassingly loud splash. The one waitress nearby helpfully offered him a towel, but Enzo merely held his hand out to decline. He was sure that he looked like some kind of homeless drunk, but all things considered, that was one of his lesser problems at the moment.

This left Enzo with his second question: the "how" of his presence here. Certainly, he knew the technical aspect of it; he'd bailed on Cedric in the hotel room and run away in the pouring rain to God-knows-where the hell to hide. But what he didn't understand was the reasoning behind his own actions. The two of them had been sleeping off the orgasm just fine—or at the very least, they'd been trying to, and that was just as well. Then, they had started talking to each other, and that was when an odd sensation filled Enzo's chest. He didn't know what or why it happened, but he just had to get away. Enzo only knew that it had something to do with Cedric.

So then, perhaps the real question was, what about Cedric made him run?

The "feeling" had been hitting Enzo a lot recently, and it was beginning to be a problem. Whatever tiny attention span he had left was being slowly dedicated to an obsession with this feeling, its frequency and its causes. It flared up irregularly, but with great heat to compensate. It would divert Enzo's focus just when he needed it, and make his whole body stumble or trip. 

He knew it had to do with Cedric, because—at first, at the very least—it would happen when they were alone. Enzo logically took it for the heat of the moment, just another side effect of the lust, combined with the booze if they happened to have it. The tightness, as Enzo mentally termed it, could just as easily been taken care of by whacking off to a porn rag.

Soon after, though, it continued even when Cedric wasn't there. This could have been a good sign, if not for the fact that the thoughts Enzo was having were becoming inextricably linked to something about Cedric. If he had a bare moment in between workouts, he found himself lying down, back hot against the ground, running over some scrap of conversation he'd overheard Cedric having in passing. Or wondering just what the hell remark he would have he saw Enzo slacking off like this. Other times, he would mumble a line or two from Cedric's theme to himself, despite being completely clueless as to what the words were. And every time, there would be that feeling in Enzo's chest when he realized what he was doing.

The worst incident of this "tightness" had occurred recently at a night club. At one moment, Enzo was surrounded by women. They all wanted a minute with him, clinging to his shoulders and the sleeves of his jacket, but the most he could afford each of them was a kiss, one soft, sweet, sleazy quick one on the lips. And then, suddenly—quick enough to give whiplash—Enzo was spent. His face crumpled, he collapsed, and he thought up some excuse to break up the circle. Something-something-about money never stopping-something. Enzo got in his car and nearly floored it.

 

Mentally, Enzo had compared every kiss, every mouth to Cedric's. And they all came up short. The "tightness" was so strong that night he felt like vomiting.

 

The waitress approached him at his table again with a feeble little smile. Before she could ask him, Enzo simply tapped the table twice and said, “Malt liquor.”

She smiled again, though this time her expression was very clearly underpinned by concern as she left. Concern in this regard was something Enzo was used to. He had a pretty good habit of drinking himself out of his mind whenever he didn’t want to think about something.

Still, now he had the few minutes it would take for him to get the drink to continue obsessing over his thoughts. This was a problem for Enzo—especially now, as he was starting to come to a vague concession with himself. He knew that he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with this feeling. To be sure, Enzo didn’t quite know how to address what it was, or what it meant, but he had definitely felt it before, and it had fucked him up when it made him too trusting. The last time he’d gotten too used to the feeling, the “tightness”, he’d gotten too comfortable and ended up with a big boot to the face and a healthy sense of abandonment. From that moment, Enzo decided to swallow that feeling whole, and for a good few months, he never had to deal with that “tightness” again.

And now, Enzo was hidden away here, at good old Derek’s, trapped with himself and nothing but that very same feeling boiling over inside of him. _Great work._  

Just then, his phone began buzzing in his back pocket. At first he was just vaguely glad that it still worked, and hadn’t been fried out by the rain, but then it actually occurred to him that he should answer the damn thing. Without even checking the name, he nudged it against his ear.

“Yo?” Enzo asked.

“Where the hell are you?” Cedric sounded terse, tired, and half-drowned out by the rain, but it was unmistakably him. Enzo rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“At a bar or some shit. Why are you up? Go back to sleep." Of all the good reasons in the world to be awake at 5 AM, Enzo knew that he, himself, was not one of them.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Why don’t you tell me where you are?” Enzo forced himself to smirk a bit, like it was a game. In reality, he was just trying to put off seeing Cedric for a little bit longer, even though more than a small part of him really wanted to. On the other end, Cedric took a sharp breath in and held it a moment before sighing gruffly. 

“Well, right now I’m in front of some place called Derek’s.” 

Enzo's head snapped up, and then turned to look out the front-facing window. Through the curtains of falling rain, he could make out Cedric's figure under the glow of a street lamp. He was hunched low under the open umbrella, and even though Enzo couldn't quite make his face out, Cedric's posture made his attitude quite clear.

"Jesus," Enzo murmured into his phone, waving his hand across the street, "you got a tracker on me, or some shit?"

Cedric sighed again. Sometimes, he felt like that, a tracker, was exactly what Enzo needed. He abruptly hung up, and Enzo watched as he crossed the street. In a moment, Cedric pushed the door open, setting off a little dinging bell overhead—his tired face twinged with displeasure, and Enzo tried to hide a little smirk behind his hand.

Just as Cedric sat down across from Enzo, the waitress approached the table with a small glass of liquor. She smiled at Cedric as she set it on the table, but again, before she could speak, Cedric smiled faintly and waved his hand to signal "no thanks".

The waitress walked on, and they were left alone, looking at each other. Enzo's hair was still wet, flattened against his forehead and face and forming a puddle on the surface of the table. He gave Cedric a sort of childish grin, unsure of what to say, and unable to explain himself. Cedric, like so many times before, could only look at him and sigh.

 

"How you doin'?" Enzo asked, coyly. Cedric's amusement was only vague, barely softening the haggard look in his face as he arched his brows.

"Get your hair out of your face," Cedric said, a bit less than enthusiastic. Enzo tried to keep grinning, but felt himself flush a bit as he scraped the hair off of his forehead. The action sent a small waterfall into his eyes, and he squeezed them shut tight to clear them. When he opened them, he found that this had apparently amused Cedric more than his catchphrase, as he was hiding his smile behind his hand, now. Enzo's face turned pink, and he silently turned his face down to his liquor.

After a moment, Cedric's face became serious again. "First of all, Enzo, I told you to take the umbrella," he started, laying the object in question on the table. "Looks like you ignored that, huh?"

Enzo flipped a loose, wet lock off of his cheek. "Dunno what gave ya that idea."

"I don't know why you can't just do what you're supposed to," Cedric said. Enzo rolled his eyes again as he recognized the "stern lecture" voice he was putting on. This was not unnoticed by Cedric, but he ignored it for the moment. " _Now_ look at you. If you catch a cold, Enzo, I swear to God—"

"Awwww." Enzo tipped his head to the side, mockingly touched. "So ya care about me. Ain'tcha sweet."

Cedric felt himself bristle at that remark. "It isn't that," he said, perhaps a bit more forcefully than needed, "it's that if you get a cold, everyone else is gonna get it. We don't want your germs. 

Enzo merely flicked his tongue out at Cedric (oddly, he seemed to flinch) as he lifted his cup to his lips.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Enzo paused and tried to knock back a gulp, which ultimately turned into a sip. Turned out that this one was a bit strong even for him. "I'm gettin' myself warmed up."

Cedric scratched his neck as he watched Enzo imbibe. He had seen Enzo drinking a few times already, but for some reason, right now it was discomforting—especially the way his eyes stayed drawn down onto the surface of the table. He couldn't explain it, but…he just wanted Enzo to _look_ at him.

Cedric lightly kicked Enzo's leg under the table, causing him to jump and slosh a bit of alcohol against his nostrils. Enzo snorted and sniffed, wiping his nose against his sleeve to get the sting out. His watering eyes flickered up to look into Cedric's face, which was now twisted with smugness. Enzo felt his ears stinging, and took a less than coordinated kick of his own at Cedric's ankle. Cedric couldn't help but laugh a tiny bit from behind his lips. Enzo now turned red, and took another kick at Cedric's calves, not much more effective than the last. 

"Ya think it's funny? Ya think I'm funny, pal?" Enzo grunted through his teeth, now smacking Cedric's legs with a flurry of only barely painful kicks. Now Cedric had bubbled over, laughter escaping his lips as his head lolled slightly back. Enzo, despite being so pissed, couldn't help but feel a little smile crawling over his face. Cedric had a rather lovable laugh.

Loudly, someone cleared their throat. In unison, Enzo and Cedric turned their heads to see the waitress looking in their direction with the most peculiar expression. The two of them straightened up immediately, and quietly looked into their laps.

Enzo tried to lift the liquor to his lips again, but stopped short. His throat felt oddly tight and itchy, and he didn't feel like he'd be able to handle a swig. _Dammit_. Shit getting weird for him again, the moment Cedric shows up in front of him. Weakly, Enzo slid the glass across the table before Cedric, as if to offer him a sip. Cedric didn't notice, staring down into his lap. He was too busy being embarrassed—he was a grown ass man, here in a little dive in God-knows-where at this hour, sitting across from another grown ass man, and the two of them were acting like fucking children in public. He couldn't decide whether it was his own tiredness or just being isolated too long with Enzo that was making him act like this. 

Enzo folded his hands up on the table and fidgeted slightly. He was being quiet. He hated being quiet. Being quiet allowed his overactive thoughts to reign, to spin rapidly out of control and collide with each other inside of his head. For some reason, just staring at Cedric was causing Enzo to overheat—he'd gone to all the trouble to come out at 5 in the morning to come fetch him, and yet now he was sitting on the opposite side of the table as if he meant to ignore him.

 

Enzo felt his synapses snapping to pieces just trying to solve the problem. Cedric hated him, but he didn't _hate him_ , hate him, but he truly seemed like he wanted to strangle Enzo, but for some reason he just _didn't_ , but he easily could have if he wanted to, but then there would be the sex, but then one of them would be gone in the morning anyway, but then he came here to bring Enzo back with him, but then it didn't matter because he just _hated_ him, and they hated each other, and that's all there was to it, and there would never be anything else, but just what the hell was "anything else" to begin with, and _what the fuck was Cedric even looking at now_ , why was he here in the first place, why did he _bother_ , what did he _want_ , what did he fucking WANT—

Enzo decided to cut off his own brain, and start a conversation. He said the first useless thing he thought of that could work.

"I think Mustafa is into you."

Cedric's head snapped up quickly, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. Shit. Perhaps the wrong thing to say.

"What do you mean?" Cedric asked.

"I mean...just..." Enzo faltered a moment, picking at a loose strand of wet hair, "do you not think so? I seen the way he looks atcha all the time. Like you're already fuckin' married or somethin'." 

"I...why are you thinking about this?" Cedric's eyes narrowed again, this time with suspicion. Enzo suddenly felt as though he were under a heat lamp.

"Shit, just tryna start a conversation, 's'all..." Enzo said. Embarrassedly, he diverted his eyes down into his glass. He still couldn't bring himself to have a drink.

Cedric shifted uneasily in his seat, and ran a hand across the strip of hair on top of his head. Then, he exhaled softly, and a bit discontentedly.

“No…no way, he isn’t into me like that,” he said, eyes finally meeting Enzo’s, with an expression the latter could only describe as “regretful” (which somehow made his heart sink). 

“Ah, come on,” Enzo wore a skeptical look. "You gotta be blind. Shit, I know he likes to cling onto your back backstage, like—” Enzo paused and curled up his body in imitation, batting his eyes mockingly. Cedric snorted.

"Hell no; I told you, not him. He likes Neville better. Pay attention."

"So?" Enzo chuckled. "That don't mean he can't like you."

"It kinda does, actually." Cedric was now eyeing up Enzo's liquor, and Enzo nodded, pushing it to him as the go-ahead. Cedric took a quick sip from it, and his face immediately scrunched inward. "Fuck. You always get the strong stuff.” Enzo shrugged his shoulders as Cedric slid the glass back over to him.

"Strong shit for a strong boy, y'know?" Enzo made a little show of rolling up his sleeve and flexing a wet bicep. Cedric blew out a breath that bordered on a laugh. There was another little pause between them, but now that they weren't feeling so listless, it wasn't too long before Cedric met Enzo's eyes again. 

"Y'know," he said, "what about Ariya? I think he's hot for you."

A sputtering chuckle escaped from Enzo's lips. "Ya gotta be shittin' me!" He exclaimed. "Boy's hot for the _income_ he gets offa me. He told me that much. I respect that he did."

Now it was Cedric's turn to give Enzo a skeptical look. "You're imperceptive as hell, you know that?" He said, as Enzo took another faint sip of his drink. His lips curled in for a moment before breaking out into a little grin.

"Buddy, I don't even know what the hell that means," Enzo said, almost proudly. Cedric shook his head for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

 _"Ain't that the fucking truth,"_ Cedric thought, before pulling inward, wondering just what it was that he, himself, meant by that remark. To be sure, he didn't understand why they were here and having this conversation any more than Enzo did—and yet, rather than pull back, he pressed on. "Alright, what about Gulak? He's trying hard to impress you, I've noticed."

Enzo's face at first flexed with smugness, and he looked as if he were about to say another quip, when he paused and thought about it for a moment longer. Slowly, he pursed his lips, before finally waving his hand dismissively.

"Nope, not him, nah. He wants to impress a lotta people, not just me. 'Sides, he's got Tony."

Cedric couldn't help but sense that something odd had come over Enzo's face, but he couldn't quite figure what it was, so he opted not to comment on it. Besides, in a moment Enzo's eyes brightened again, and a little smirk lifted up his face.

"What about Noam?" He asked. "Think _he_ might dig me?"

Enzo tried not to laugh too hard at the obvious way Cedric's arms and back tensed up. Sometimes his buttons were all too easy to push. Cedric sighed, tipping back to stare at the ceiling as Enzo laughed. He tried not to pay too much mind to the fact that his cheeks were burning.

 

After a minute or so, Enzo's fit subsided, and he leaned forward and smiled.

"Dunno why you don't think nobody likes you, Cedric." Enzo's face and voice were so earnestly bright that Cedric was caught off-guard.

"What do you mean by that? I know I have a lot of friends."

"I don't mean 'friends'," Enzo said as he reclined in his side of the booth, "I mean, y'know..." he lifted up his hips and made a grunting sound. Cedric's eyes widened, and his face flushed.

"J-just don't...I...u-uh..." Cedric stuttered, trying to get his brain back on track. "I mean, what about you? You denied everyone I said likes you. Why?"

Enzo squinted at Cedric. "Why don't nobody like me? Cedric, you oughta know that answer better than anybody."

His voice was noticeably subdued, almost...glum. For whatever reason, Cedric felt a hole widening inside of him.

"Come on, Enzo," Cedric bent forward over the table slightly, "don't tell me you honestly think that."

"'Catchphrase in a T-shirt'?" Enzo looked up to Cedric, and noticed the way his face turned sour. " _You_ come on, Cedric. Y'know nobody on this goddamn show really... _likes_ me. I mean, despite my stud looks and the fact that I bleed cash..."

 

Cedric sensed something manufactured in Enzo's tone, and watched as his eyes became slightly overcast. He felt inclined to clear them up.

 

"I mean, well..." Cedric bit his lip and thought for a moment. It was less a matter of not having anything to say as it was not knowing how to start. “You’re charismatic, for one thing. That draws people in. 

Enzo shrugged somewhat dismissively. Cedric found himself leaning in closer as he went on, “I mean that. Everyone knows that. Shit, I’ll give you a little credit…even if the crowd boos you, they’re chanting along, and…at least they’re _reacting_ to you.”

Enzo watched as Cedric’s face fell slightly. Cedric felt as though he’d picked open a wound on his skin.

“I wish I knew how you do it…” Cedric murmured, half to himself.

Enzo leaned in closer to Cedric to keep his mind where it was, and remind him that he was still there with him. “Knew how I do what?” He asked, surprisingly soft.

“How do you…you know; how do you always just know what to say? How are you spontaneous like that?” Cedric’s voice came back a bit strongly. “How do you just get out there and talk and keep people hooked on you? It’s like, it doesn’t matter what you do, everyone’s got their eyes on you…but the minute I stop wrestling, and get out of the ring…”

Cedric’s eyes fell down to the table as he trailed off. It wasn’t too difficult for Enzo to figure out the remainder. He reached forward to Cedric, and lightly rapped his knuckles against his forehead. Cedric’s eyes snapped back up to meet Enzo, whose face was unusually gentle. 

“Hey, now, don’t bullshit me,” Enzo said, tipping his head as he looked at Cedric, “of course people got their eyes on you. Especially the ladies.”

Cedric cracked a little smile at Enzo’s smirk. “The hell does _that_ mean?”

“I mean that you’re—uh…” Enzo faltered for a moment, scratching the back of his head. He blushed as he heard Cedric chuckling at him. “What I meant was…uh, your face, your physique, your…" 

Now Cedric was really laughing, face bent down into his palms as he wheezed. Enzo’s face was now deep red, and he hid his own face in embarrassment.

“Dammit! You got a good look, that’s all I’m tryna say!” He exclaimed. Now it was Cedric who was smirking.

“I think you’re trying to say I’m cute,” Cedric teased. He batted his dark eyes at Enzo, who suddenly felt his stomach flip over.

“Y-yeah…” Enzo stuttered, “I-I mean, you got a good look in the ring." 

“Oh?” Cedric was still giving him a rather mocking look. Enzo looked down, and tried to keep his brain together. 

“Yeah, man. You look real…legit. Like you can kick some real ass—and you _do!_ ” Shit, did Enzo know that for a fact. Cedric looked into the corner, but the smirk was still evident on his face, so Enzo decided to keep fluffing him up. “You talk about people not payin’ attention, but I heard ‘em when you’re doin’ your shit in the ring—Cedric, they _believe_ it when you’re out there, man.”

Cedric glanced over to Enzo once again, who was now looking down at his hands, folded up on the table. He was being oddly silent, again, experiencing that same sort of scab-picked feeling that Cedric had a moment ago. Cedric felt an odd warmth choking up his throat, but he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, so he simply took a breath in. 

Now, they were both silent, just clasping their hands on the table and intermittently gazing over to each other. Occasionally, one of them would steal a glance to the window outside (the rain had hardly let up in the slightest, and the puddles looked ankle-deep) or to the waitress (slumped down at a table with a coffee mug, frequently checking the watch on her wrist)—but beyond that, it was just the two of them, and that... _tightness_.

Cedric, too, was feeling that tightness, welling up against the sides of his chest and making his throat feel unbearably tight. He felt as though his mind were dredged up with a million questions, thoughts, and things to say, but when he tried to get in deeper and examine them, nothing would translate into actual words. But Enzo was looking at Cedric, expectantly, again, with that _look_ on his face. He suddenly felt a fire lit up underneath him, pushing him to say something, anything to keep the quiet out.

 

"Enzo, why did you come into my room tonight?" Cedric suddenly asked in one burst of breath. Enzo's eyes widened a moment, and Cedric was sure that he now had his attention.

"I-I..." Enzo stuttered, and shit, it felt weird. He was always so smooth with what he said, but this time it was hard to line up his words. "I needed a shower. I told you that."

"Mmhm, yeah. Alright. What was the real reason?"

Enzo felt himself sweating a bit, and his mouth hung uselessly open for a minute as he drew air. Cedric suddenly stared directly into his eyes, and Enzo felt himself staring back. It was like being sucked into a black hole.

"I think that I wanted...to talk." The words fell out of Enzo's mouth automatically. Cedric's rather piercing (but still...oddly warm, in a way) stare had drawn them straight out.

"To talk?" Cedric's brow furrowed to hide the fact that his heart had skipped a beat. Enzo nodded.

"Yeah. I wanted to talk—with you." Enzo kneaded his lips in between his teeth. What the hell was he telling Cedric this for?

"Enzo..." Cedric swallowed, and tried not to let his voice tremble. "What did you want to talk to me about? 

Enzo simply stared at Cedric. His tongue had dried out, and sat uselessly in the desert of his mouth. His mind drew a long, infinite blank. For the first time in his life, Enzo didn't know what to say.

"Enzo?" Cedric repeated, leaning slightly in. Those deep brown eyes of his stayed centered into Enzo's, and Enzo was still hopelessly trapped in their gravity. 

The dryness spread down into Enzo's throat, and he felt as if his whole head were burning. What _did_ he want to talk about? What did he want? Enzo didn't know, he'd never even given it much thought—but looking back, he felt it. Of course he hadn't just come in for the shower. Of _course_ there was something else, something that had to be said, something that Enzo just needed. But what in the hell was it? Enzo felt himself growing tighter and tighter in his chest. He didn't know what he wanted to tell Cedric, or if there was anything that he _could_ possibly tell him. But the need to do so was burning Enzo up, and stealing his ability to breathe. His whole mind was begging, _"tell him, tell him, tell him"_ with no solution nor end in sight. Enzo couldn't stop it. He just looked down at his lap and let his head scream.

"Enzo, are you okay?" Cedric's voice was fraught with genuine concern. There was a brief pause, and then Enzo lifted his head. His face was suddenly placid and vacant, but his blue eyes were glistening hot with intent.

"Cedric," A voice came from Enzo's throat that he swore was not his own. He was receding, mind instead operating on auto pilot. "Remember how you said I'm spontaneous earlier?"

"Yeah?" Cedric said faintly. The look in Enzo's eyes had caught him off-guard.

"Well. I think I'm about to be spontaneous again." And Enzo was leaning close. Before Cedric could even ask what the hell Enzo meant, he felt a hand on the back of his neck—and then, felt himself slowly leaning in closer, his eyes drifting shut. He heard his heartbeat in his ears.

 

They had kissed many times before, but none like this. There was depth, meaning, but no sexuality. They had never, ever just kissed to kiss, only to accentuate their foreplay or the cool-down, and it had always felt sleazy and hot. But this—this, as Enzo held Cedric close over the table—this had warmth. And warmth was entirely different from heat. Cedric found himself delirious, unthinking as he tilted his head slightly, leaning in closer, putting a hand on Enzo's shoulder. He wanted to get more out of it, as much as he could. Enzo was patient with him, keeping him in place right there with him, never bothering him with his tongue—just gently preserving the silence between them, and letting it all speak for itself. 

It couldn't have been longer than a few seconds, but it felt like ages had passed by the time they parted. They both gasped a bit—not out of breathlessness; they had not been nearly sensual enough for that. The gasp was surprise. They'd had a full, normal, almost emotional kiss.

And it had felt _so good_.

Unfortunately, Enzo had settled back inside of his body now, and was wide-eyed and trembling as he realized what he'd just done. On the inside, he felt tighter than ever, almost sealed completely shut and burning with panic. Holy shit—it was as if every fiber of his body was waking back from a sleep he didn't even know he was in. In his brain, he felt like a switch had been flipped, and every circuit was suddenly acting in accordance. Everything was coming together. 

In that moment, he understood what had been weighing so heavily on him this whole time.

Enzo stared at Cedric, who was equally wide-eyed, but also somehow very calm, even tranquil. A smile slowly set into his face. His peacefulness should have seeped into Enzo, but—he could hardly _breathe_. His heartbeat was out of his control, and he felt his legs shaking with an itching, burning need to get away.

He tore his eyes away from Cedric as he reached into his pocket. In one swift motion, Enzo slapped down about twenty more dollars than the liquor likely actually cost him, mumbled a weak, regretful "I'm sorry", and pushed past Cedric and— _bolted_ , just ran out the door and into the drenching rain outside.

Cedric snapped back into reality a second late, his head whipping back to watch Enzo slide out the door before he could even fully comprehend what was happening. As soon as his brain stumbled up to speed, Cedric snatched up the umbrella from the table. His feet nearly gave way underneath him as he headed for the door, and half-tripped down the steps into the wet, glistening streets outside. 

Cedric didn't even bother opening up the damn umbrella—hell, that would slow him down—as he squinted through the sheets of raindrops falling before him, so heavy and thick they were nearly opaque. Everything was gray and dingy, save for what fell below the soft, amber glow of the street lamps that dotted the streets at intervals. As Cedric stared, trying to catch his breath, he spotted a familiar looking jacket, both zebra and leopard-printed (he looked like the whole damn zoo), passing under the golden light.

Enzo was moving, but slowing down. He was running short on breath, and the raindrops trickling into his mouth and nostrils were making it difficult to regain. He soon sputtered hard, and leaned against the post of the street lamp, nearly kneeling on the sidewalk. As he gasped, chest heaving, Enzo grimaced and slapped himself on the shaven sides of his head. Idiot, dumbass, dipshit. He'd gotten _this_ close. He was just on the doorstep of doing the correct thing, of finally being honest with Cedric and with himself—but when it came time to ring the bell, he just turned and ran, ran away for the second _goddamned_ time tonight. The answer that he had been looking for for so long was right in front of him and he just fucking...abandoned it, and lost it. Enzo sighed, and peered up, squinting through the rain and the haze of the bright light above him.

Honestly, if he drowned out here on the street corner, he deserved it.

Suddenly, the streetlight and rain were blotted out by an open umbrella, which had suddenly materialized over Enzo's head—or, rather, Enzo found as his eyes followed along the outstretched arm that was holding it, Cedric had suddenly materialized while holding an open umbrella. He, too, was panting for breath. Rain was falling over his cheeks in long streams, and his shirt was soaked through to the skin.

Enzo stood up, aware that his cheeks were flushed, and looked embarrassedly at the sidewalk under his feet. He could feel Cedric staring holes into the top of his head, just waiting for him to speak.

Gently, Enzo lifted his head. "Cedric, I'm s—"

"Date me."

 

For a moment, Enzo's heart stopped. "What?"

Cedric bit his lips, and felt a trembling in his core, but kept his resolve. "You heard me."

"B-b-buh- _buh-buh..._ " The wheels in Enzo's head were freely spinning, out of control. "But you—I—we—don't we—"

"Hate each other?" Cedric finished for Enzo. A little tremor was now evident in his voice, but his eyes remained locked with Enzo's gaze. "We're supposed to, yes. But I don't. And I don't care."

Enzo was silent. Slowly, he drew a hand over his mouth, eyes looking just past Cedric, and at that moment Cedric was afraid that perhaps he asked for too much.

"Well?" Cedric asked, his voice finally cracking. His eyes were stinging, and his throat felt clenched shut. "What do you think? Do you want to..." He swallowed hard, trying to open his throat up a bit, "go out with me?"

Softly, Cedric could hear Enzo—giggling, ever so slightly and gently, before slowly rising in volume until he was full-on laughing. For a moment, Cedric felt a bit terrified, but then Enzo withdrew his hand from his face, and, oh, the smile that lifted up his cheeks brightened up his entire face like a lightbulb, and Cedric, for a split second, forgot where he was, what he was talking about, and his own name.

"Alright..." Enzo nodded, still beaming. "Alright. Okay. Yeah— _yes_. I wanna do that."

Now Enzo's smile infected Cedric's face. He felt little wonderful peals of laughter escaping his throat, which Enzo couldn't help but match. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Cedric's shoulders, closing the gap between them. Together, they simply laughed, for what felt like ages, so long and hard that by the time they were finished, they felt tears in their eyes.

"Okay..." Enzo said, taking in a slow breath, "say that I take you out with me next Tuesday after 205. What do you wanna do?”

Cedric pretended to think about that for a moment—in reality, he was thinking more about how, despite the fact that they were both soaked down to their bones, Enzo’s hand was surprisingly warm on his shoulder.

“Well, I…” Oh, shit. Something suddenly jumped back into the forefront of Cedric’s brain. “What time is it?”

Enzo checked his phone, and made a hoarse noise from somewhere in his throat. “5:57…u-uh—” Enzo paused to clear his throat, “—Maybe we ought to just discuss details tomorrow, a’ight?”

A smile washed over Cedric’s face again, and Enzo felt warmer on sight. “Yeah,” Cedric softly said, putting a hand on the back of Enzo’s neck and gently pulling him in, “alright.”

This kiss felt just as good as the last one, or possibly even better, somehow—perhaps it was the anticipation welling up inside of them, but once their lips parted, they both felt surprisingly warm, as if they weren’t both quivering out on the rainy street. Yet, for some reason, Enzo’s brow creased, and he looked down at the ground.

“Y’know, I…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m actually not used to that—lookin’ down, I mean.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you kiss?”

Enzo blushed, but nodded. “Yeah, got a couple inches on ya. Not used to that. I mean…I’m used to looking… _up_.”

Cedric smirked a little bit, in a sort of gentle way that made Enzo chuckle softly. “Is that stupid?” Enzo asked. He offered Cedric his arm, and he took it, holding the umbrella up high over their dripping heads.

“Nah, it’s not stupid…” Cedric paused and found Enzo’s hand with his own, and squeezed it tightly. “You just better get used to it. Okay?”

Enzo chuckled, and flipped some wet hair off of his face. He leaned slowly into Cedric as he walked next to him, squeezing his hand right back. Delicately, Cedric pressed another little kiss into Enzo's cheek, and Enzo felt as warm and dry as if it had never rained on him in his life.

 

"Yeah..." Enzo whispered, to Cedric and to himself. "Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a hot few weeks to write, probably because I'm incapable of keeping things simple.
> 
> Nobody get mad about the references to the Enzo-Cass breakup, by the way. I loved em, and I still do! Just seemed like appropriate angst fodder.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
